


Decade and One

by Dolthalion



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-17
Updated: 2013-02-17
Packaged: 2017-11-29 15:21:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/688459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dolthalion/pseuds/Dolthalion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sleepless night for Finland, spent watching the snow and thinking of the past.  One shot, inspired by Vienna Teng's Decade and One.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Decade and One

The wooden slats of their carefully constructed pine bed creak as Finland carefully pushes himself up against the headboard. Outside, he can hear the gentle whisper of snowfall, but closer is the equally gentle whisper of Sweden’s breathing. The young Nation sighs, brushing a hand through his white-blonde hair, easing out knots that have formed against the pillow. Beside him, Sweden makes a soft noise, and shifts slightly, drawing Finland’s attention. His strong partner’s brow is furrowed, even in sleep, and Finland can’t resist leaning forward to kiss it gently. He pulls the cover up closer around Sweden’s shoulders, and then slips carefully out of the bed, not wanting to disturb Sweden any more.

The floor is cold and smooth against his bare feet as Finland makes his way to the door. The route is so familiar that he hardly needs the scant, soft moonlight that fills the room from the window. Sweden has ‘forgotten’ to pull the curtains again. Finland smiles to himself. He knows from the soft smiles that Sweden likes to be woken by the light of dawn, and though he nags him about letting the heat out, Finland has never gone to close the curtains himself. More than a few times they’ve lain awake, Sweden spooned behind him, facing the window, speaking softly as they watch the moon and stars move through the glass.

Finland grabs his dressing gown from the back of the door, and hesitates for a moment. His toes are cold, but another slipper has gone missing. Smiling to himself, he opens the door slowly as to keep down the familiar creak. He’s had worse than cold toes before.

As he passes it in the corridor, he gently pushes the door open to Sealand’s room. The nightlight illuminated their adopted son’s face, half buried in Hanatamago’s white fur. The small dog looks up sleepily, and Finland quickly puts a finger to his lips. Whether or not Hanatamago recognises the human signal, she silently puts his head back down and snuggles up to Sealand sleepily. With a fond look in his eyes, Finland pulls the door to, and continues down the corridor.

He pads all but silently along the familiar wooden floorboards, and down the stairs, skipping over the third one so it doesn’t creak. He’s lived here, with Sweden, for almost all of his history, and although they have made some changes to his house, it is as familiar to him as his own forests, if not more. Together, Sweden and he have worn down the pine floorboards until they are as smooth as silk under Finland’s bare feet, but as cold as ice as he reaches the bottom step. They are still deep in General Winter’s grasp, and this late at night the fires have burnt low. With that thought, Finland slips into the main room, and throws a few more logs onto the fire. He stands above it, waiting to see if they will take without help, and then, once it does, makes his way back across the corridor to the kitchen.

This is the room that Sweden takes most pride in, and of all their rooms is the most updated. There is nothing left of the basic stove that they first built together, more than five hundred years ago. But the floor has also been replaced, and Finland lets out a whimper as his feet his the cold tiles. He quickly covers his mouth, glancing up, hoping that he hasn’t disturbed his lover or his son, but even though the sound echoed in the silence it was still soft, and there is no movement from either bedroom.

With a relieved sigh, Finland resumes his journey, grabbing a mug from the dresser with a gentle clink, and putting it down on the table. The room is briefly flooded with light as he opens the fridge, pulling out the milk, pouring himself a glass and then returning it.

He wants to microwave it to protect himself against the cold, but doesn’t want to make so much noise, so Finland just scoops up the mug and returns to the sitting room, putting it down on the hearth and then sitting down beside it with his back against the wall. From there he can see out of the window, and for a while he is distracted by the snowfall, content to just watch it. 

After a while, though, his eyes are drawn by something glinting on the floor. Sighing, he pushes himself up – a movement that involves more creaking muscles than it should for someone who looks so young. Sealand has left one of his toys, one of those transforming robot things, behind the sofa, and the firelight is glinting on it. Finland has to go back down on his knees and grope behind the sofa to fish it out, and when he’s finally managed to get a hand around it, he sits back on his knees, and looks at the toy in his hand. It’s battered and it looks like Hanatamago has been chewing on it, but Finland smiles, remembering a teary Sealand coming to him two nights complaining that his favourite transformer has disappeared. Sweden has already replaced the toy (and Finland knows that if Sweden hadn’t, he would have. Neither of them can resist spoiling the smaller Nation), but Sealand will still be glad to have the other one back.

Settling back next to the fire, Finland fiddles with the toy, pushing its arms and legs straight and then pulling them out again half unconsciously. He remembers, not so long ago, Sealand pressing himself up against the window of a toyshop to admire at it, and then pointing it out eagerly to his new adoptive parents. Finland and Sweden had only intended to buy new clothes for their new charge, who had arrived from England the day before with nothing but what he was dressed in, but one shared glance and a soft chuckle from Finland was all they needed to know that they were agreed on this matter. Finland distracted Sealand with trying on clothes in a shop down the street while Sweden quickly returned to the shop to buy the toy, and while Sweden was bathing Sealand back at home, Finland had placed it on top of his nightclothes on the bed. Sealand’s cry of joy had rocked through the little house, and Finland had laughed again as Sealand clutched to the toy as though it was the most precious gift.

That evening they had sat together in front of the fire, and Finland had eagerly asked questions about the toy, but had got confused in Sealand’s replies about a history and show more complex than he had expected. Even now, so many years on, Finland hadn’t grasped the story behind Sealand’s favourite series, even with caught glimpses whenever he got the chance to spend time with their son.

Sweden, silent as ever, had just sat patiently with Finland and Sealand, only the slightest of curves to his lips and eyes showing a smile that Finland recognised and returned with his own bright one whenever he looked up.

Finland chuckles, thinking about Sweden’s grim face, and how terrified he used to be of it. Of course, the first time he met Sweden, the Nation was still a Viking, tall and looming. Back before Finland was a real Nation, when he was younger than Sealand, they used to catch glimpses of each other in the forests sometimes. Finland would always run away though. He was too scared to approach the other Nation. But one day, Sweden had sought him out. Finland remembers how scared he was, and he was about to flee again, when Sweden had spoke, and Finland was startled into stopping. The voice was gruff, as he had imagined, and Finland hadn’t understood the language.

Hesitating, Sweden had looked at Finland, and then pointed to himself. “ _Sverige_.”

But by then, Finland had come to his senses and fled.

It took several more chance encounters before Finland managed to gather the courage to introduce himself. “ _S-Suomi_ ”, he had stuttered, and then quailed under the intense look that he now knew to be a smile.

But Finland was still scared of him, and had continued to be so for so many years. He shook when Sweden gently lowered a silver cross around his neck, when Sweden had took his hand and led him from Denmark’s house. He had stammered out Sweden’s name so many times that Sweden had just accepted ‘Sve’, and Finland had got just used to the childish nickname. For so many years, he had trembled in bed beside his partner, but Sweden had always gently wrapped his arms around him, held him close and drifted off. 

Finland wasn’t sure when he had stopped, because he didn’t notice. All he could remember was one day realising how comfortable Sweden’s arms were. He couldn’t recall when the change had happened, but Finland had simply snuggled closer to Sweden, pulling his arms in around him.

Sweden had given a slightly surprised grunt, but then tightened his hold on Finland, and kissed the top of his head lightly. 

Finland smiles to himself, closing his eyes and wrapping his arms around his slim hips. In all the years that he’s spent with Sweden, he’s never regretted his decision to live with the older Nation. He’s been angry at Sweden: he was furious with him for many years, after his old religion died, though his was too scared to say anything, and they’ve warred before. But he’s also long admired Sweden for his strength and courage (and his height, and his beautiful eyes), culminating in a clumsy, apologetic kiss before he was taken away to live at Russia’s house. And though he finally became his own Nation, Finland returned to live at Sweden’s house, where he’s lived ever since.

Curling his fingers around the mug of milk, Finland finally takes a sip of the warm liquid. This is his home. For all of his independence, this is where he feels most at peace. Here with his son, and Hanatamago, and most of all with Sweden, with his Sve.

He drifts off a little, because the next thing he knows is that Sweden is standing above him, looking concerned. Finland quickly pushes himself straight, and smiles up at Sweden.

“’Re you ‘kay?” Sweden asks, softly. 

Waking up a little more, Finland realises that Sweden is still only in his nightshirt, and he quickly rises, wrapping his arms around Sweden as he straightens up. “I’m fine, I just couldn’t sleep. You must be freezing. Were you that worried?”

“T’ bed was c’ld.”

Finland laughs softly, and tugs Sweden in tighter to him. Sweden responds, holding Finland as close as he can. “I’m sorry, Sve. I didn’t mean to make you fuss.”

A hand finds its way into Finland’s hair, and Finland tips his head back to look back up at Sweden as he speaks. “What w’re you th’nk’ng ‘bout?”

“Oh. Not much. Just this and that.” Finland smiles. “I suppose… I was thinking about how long we’d been here, and… how nice it is to be a family. You, me, Sealand and Hanatamago.”

Sweden kisses the top of Finland’s head in way of reply, and Finland tips his head back, to claim a proper kiss. “’M wife.” Sweden hums, contentedly, sleepily.

Letting out a low sigh of playful annoyance, Finland pulls back a little to put his hands on his hips. “Sve, I’ve told you. I’m not your wife.” Sweden pulls him back into place against his chest, and Finland doesn’t fight, relaxing against him. “At least say husband.” Finland says into his lover’s firm chest. Sweden’s arms tighten around him.

“’M husb’nd?” He tries, after a moment.

Finland grins up at him. “Better. Now, let’s go back to bed before you freeze.” He frees his arms from Sweden’s bear hug to rub Sweden’s arms, which, like he suspected, are prickly with Goosebumps in the cold. “You should have at least brought your dressing gown down.” Sweden nods, and takes Finland’s hand, ready to lead him from the room, but Finland halts, remembering the toy abandoned in the shadows. “Wait!” He quickly frees his hand to grab it, and with it safely tucked against his chest, he reclaims Sweden’s big hand and lets him lead him back up to their bedroom. There, Sweden unties Finland’s dressing gown, and helps him shrug out of it, before hanging it back up.

“I need new slippers again.” Finland says, and then yawns, covering it with his free hand. “Hanatamago must have gotten to the last pair.” He speaks in a whisper, aware that Sealand is sleeping in the room next to them.

Sweden nods silently again as he leads him by the hand to the bed. Finland lays Sealand’s toy down on the bedside table as he clambers in, Sweden taking his place next to him. Finland’s taken the side nearest the window, and it’s still a little warm from when Sweden abandoned it. He lifts his head to allow Sweden to tuck his arm under his neck, and then snuggles up against him comfortably, as Sweden finds place for his arm over Finland’s hip. They’ve slept like this so many times that it’s natural, and comfortable, and Finland starts to doze again, almost instantly. He’s almost asleep, when Sweden speaks again, so soft that it’s almost inaudible.

“T’ snows st’pped.”

Blinking with sleepiness, Finland looks up to the window, and sees that Sweden’s right, and that the clouds have rolled back a little to reveal the moon and a tiny patch of stars. He smiles, snuggling back into Sweden’s warm chest. “Maybe spring will be here soon.”

“M’ybe.”

“Goodnight, Sve.”

“G’dnight, Finland.”


End file.
